


Moving Feathers

by mandykaysfic



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy's being a tease - in public.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Feathers

A relieved smiled settled over Dr McCoy's features when he spotted Spock waiting outside the gates of the university. He shifted the awkward package to his other hip and lengthened his stride. “I see they let you out early,” he said as he joined his friend.

“The moderators were most efficient. Question time finished exactly at the scheduled hour.” Spock looked curiously at the paper sack McCoy carried. A riot of brightly colored feathers stuck out from the top. He pursed his lips and blew upward at a gaudy green plume that tickled his nose.

“Oh, these. Got them at the market. Well, I didn't actually buy them on purpose. There were a bunch of sideshow games, you know, ring toss, shooting, typical fairground stuff. I'd actually won a...er...a large pink teddy bear that a young man was trying to win for his girl. He ended up with this arrangement of feathers. She looked disappointed, so -.” McCoy shrugged. “They're really quite fetching, bright colors and all.” He swapped them back to his other hip.

“Perhaps we should take a mover back to our rooms.”

“Good idea. They're heavier than they look.”

“Would you like me to carry them for a while?”

“No, I can manage. The mover station is less than a block away. Tell me how it went.”

Spock's paper had been well-received and the men chatted amiably as they waited for the next public mover to arrive. There was enough room on one of the long benches for them to sit side by side in the centre of the single carriage. McCoy sank gratefully onto a small square of leather and Spock squeezed in on his left. The seats were a little small for comfort; the race that inhabited this planet was naturally short and slender.

The woman on McCoy's right huffed impatiently and glared at him as the feathered fronds tickled her face. He apologized profusely and quickly shifted his burden to his other knee. There was no room for it on the floor. He winced when Spock pushed futilely at the feathers that now tickled his face. By twisting the bag clockwise a little, he managed to get the majority of the longest bits pointing over his shoulder. Sure, they tickled his ear, but it was a small price to pay.

The mover sped up and the syncopated undulations of the old tracks caused the passengers to bounce in their seats. Spock’s thigh was warm where it rubbed the length of McCoy’s; it was a good feeling to have for the next thirty minutes until they reached their destination. He took advantage of the momentum and pushed back against Spock whenever the mover rocked him that way. They talked companionably as passengers embarked and disembarked at the next few stations. 

The seat next to McCoy never became vacant, forcing him to keep the arrangement held firmly on his knee. He fidgeted, trying to distribute the weight a little more evenly. It took a moment or two to register that Spock had fallen silent in the middle of a sentence, and he wrinkled his nose in confusion when the next words from Spock’s lips were on a completely different topic, but as the topic was one particularly dear to his heart, he broke in with his opinion and pressed his thigh firmly against Spock’s once more when the mover jolted him. And there was the funny little break in Spock’s conversation again. This time it seemed to be accompanied by a quickly drawn breath and a smothered gulp.

“You all right, Spock?”

“I’m…quite well, Doctor. You were saying?”

“Are you sure? Then in that case,” and if it entered McCoy’s mind that he hadn’t been the last one speaking, he forgot as he emphasized an earlier point. 

McCoy’s other neighbor stood in preparation for getting off at the next stop and McCoy looked hopefully at the seat next to him, but it was quickly filled by a young woman who clutched a toddler on her knee and stood a second, slightly older child between her knees. McCoy raised his elbow to keep the little one from grabbing at his feathers. The woman smiled apologetically and tried to distract it with a monologue tale of the view from the window. 

Spock’s breath hitched, several times now and McCoy felt the tension as he held himself rigidly. As the mover gained speed, Spock jerked twice. His faint indrawn hiss teased at McCoy’s memory for a moment, and then he too stiffened. He knew that noise. He turned slightly to examine Spock’s features. His movement set the feathered fronds moving – against Spock’s ear. A smile spread over his features as he looked for and found a thin film of sweat covering the Vulcan’s forehead. He caught Spock’s eye and held his gaze as he deliberately raised and lowered himself in his seat a little more than was warranted by the rocking of the mover. 

Spock stared back and then slowly closed his eyes for a long moment. He opened them and issued a non-verbal challenge, before deliberately turning his profile to McCoy, letting him see the iron control snap firmly into place when he chose not move away. Ten minutes remained of their journey.

McCoy’s gaze flickered over the taut cheek muscles, the corded throat and, through the fronds of his arrangement, a crimson feather that touched Spock’s ear. He turned away just enough that it wouldn’t be obvious to a casual onlooker where he was looking, and then took advantage of another bumpy section of track to jiggle his left knee. Up and down the elegantly pointed helix, soft barbs and barbules stimulated sensitized nerve endings. A deviously repositioned elbow that now rested on the feathers’ shafts gave McCoy a modicum more control over the feathers and he was able to wiggle enough so the tips stroked the antihelical folds and just entered Spock’s ear canal for a quick tickle before returning to the sensual up and down pattern that never failed to arouse Spock. “Don’t forget to breathe, Spock,” he murmured, and grinned at the brief sniff that was Spock’s response.

Up, down, up down; McCoy kept to the rhythmic rattle of the mover. Sweat beaded Spock’s lip. McCoy quietly smiled. Up, down, up, down.

“Ours is the next station.” He accurately read Spock’s body language in a quick once over. “Hmm, perhaps you should carry the arrangement back to our rooms!” and he shifted his burden carefully to Spock’s lap.

END


End file.
